


What's Your Choice?

by Khaos_Fox



Category: Leverage
Genre: Choices, Date Night, M/M, Oral Sex, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaos_Fox/pseuds/Khaos_Fox
Summary: Nate was supposed to go out with Sophie, but she claims she had already made other plans. Jim Sterling finds himself in Boston on a case for INTERPOL when he gets a call from an old friend. An evening out with Nate Ford? What else could happen?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was written some time ago but never posted since I've been trying to get it nice and polished. It was a personal challenge to get me back into writing. Well, it's worked and I'm doing other pieces. I do hope you enjoy. Please inform me of what you think. Feel free to give me some critics. Thank you.

Nate Ford had planned the evening out perfectly. He would take Sophie out to a lovely Italian restaurant and then go see the mystery movie, The Ghost Writer. And if things went right, he would get her in his bed for a long night of gorgeous sex.  
He dressed in his black suit, black shirt, and a black silk necktie. With his hair fixed just enough to keep his curls out of his face, he was set. With tickets in hand, Nate bounded down the spiral staircase; Sophie in his sights.  
So beautiful, Sophie was, a picture of perfection. She glided across the floor as she always did, her brown hair barely moving behind her. And her almost doe-like, brown eyes would make him forget the entire world around him and focus all of his attention on her. Sophie looked up at him with a phone to her ear. That was...well...odd.  
“Tara, I’ll see you in a bit.” She said and hung up. Nate felt his hopes fall.  
“Tara,” Ford responded in surprise. “What did she want?” Sophie grabbed her coat and purse.  
“Oh, I was going to grab a drink with her.” She answered, her eyes not meeting his. Nate recognized that tone she used—one for a mark. “We’ve been planning this for a couple weeks.”  
“A couple weeks?” Nate echoed as he watched her move about. Closed off and giving him a wide birth. She was lying to him, sort of.  
“Yeah. I told you about it.” Sophie paused and her eyes made contact with his at last. “Don’t you remember?”  
“Uh...no.”  
“Oh. Well...I did tell you.” Nate hated that fluctuation in her voice. It sounded like she was saying “That’s your problem.” Sophie cocked her head to the side. “Was there something you wanted to do?” She inquired.  
“I, uh, made reservations at your favorite restaurant for tonight. It was for our date.”  
“I’m sorry.” Sophie kissed his cheek. “Rain check?”  
“Yeah...” Nate’s shoulders slumped forward. “Sure.”  
“If you’re going to mope about it, I can just cancel.”  
“No, no, no. You go, spend time with Tara. I’ll, uh, see if Eliot, Parker, or Hardison will want to come.”  
“Hardison’s out with some group for a table top game. Parker’s with him. Eliot—.” Sophie paused with a devilish grin on her face. “Eliot found a pleasant girl at the pub. He’s gone to her flat for the rest of the night.”  
“Oh...well...I’ll just cancel the reservations and just have a drink or two.”  
“Or twenty,” Sophie grumbled. Nate tried not to flinch at her comment. He knew he had a problem and he didn’t do anything to fix it. But she shouldn’t have to remind him constantly. One last kiss and she was gone. Ford sighed and looked at the clock.  
Four thirty in the afternoon. Nearly evening time. Nate pulled out his cell phone and dialed Maggie’s phone number. He fidgeted and cleared his throat.  
“Hello?” His ex-wife’s voice said on the other end.  
“Uh, Maggie, hi. Look, uh, I've got a reservation. I was wondering if you wanted to join me.”  
“What about Sophie?”  
“She’s busy. So, uh,” Nate chuckled nervously. “So what do you say? You and me?”  
“I already had plans with a new boyfriend.”  
“Oh, uh, okay.” Nate sighed.  
“Is...is everything alright, Nate?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, everything is, uh, everything’s fine.”  
“It doesn’t sound fine to me. What’s wrong?”  
“Well, I planned this date with Sophie and she decided that she would rather spend time with a friend of hers.”  
“Nate...”  
“But I told her she should spend time with said friend. I don’t want to cancel the reservation I made to her favorite restaurant, which by the way, is difficult to get a couple weeks in advance. So I called you to see if you weren’t busy. But you are busy, so I’m out of options.” Nate took a deep breath. God, he shouldn’t raise his voice like this. Maggie didn’t need that.  
“I’m sorry Maggie.” He said his voice cracking. “I am so sorry.”  
“I could cancel.”  
“No, no. Don’t cancel. Please. Go and have fun. You deserve that much. Not worrying about me.”  
“If...if you’re sure.”  
“I am.” Nate paused and considered a possibility. “You’re not with Eliot, are you?” Maggie laughed.  
“Trust me, after dealing with the First and Second Davids, Eliot and I agreed to never go out again.”  
“Wait. You considered to go out with him again?”  
“Well, yes. But we agreed to never go out ever again. Especially since Eliot was afraid you’d try to be a third wheel again.”  
“I was not a third wheel.”  
“Whatever you call it, Nate. I didn’t want to be spied on by my ex-husband.” Nate cringed. Time to end this conversation.  
“Go. Go have fun, Maggie. Bye.” He hung up without waiting for a response, feeling lonelier than usual. His reservation wasn’t until six so there was plenty of time to cancel. He looked through his contacts and paused on a name he hadn’t called in years. He called it and silently prayed it wouldn’t be picked up.

Jim Sterling was at the hotel he was staying at for a case. Bloody hell, working so much really put a strain on his sleep schedules. Just once, he would like to simply take a night off, sit down with a bit of Scotch, and watch crap telly, or porn.  
He was out of his shoes and nearly had his coat off when his mobile rang. Jim growled and fished in his pockets for the bloody thing. Once it was freed from his trousers he checked the incoming call.  
Nate Ford. Nate was calling him? Really? Why? Jim thought about ignoring it, just let it go to voice mail. But what if Nate had gotten into some impossible situation that would need someone of Jim’s caliber to fix? Thoughts of Nate being in all sorts of trouble with the law danced through his mind. Oh that would be something, wouldn’t it? It would be a chance to gloat and rub it in Nate’s face. Can’t pass that up.  
Expecting a plea for help—or mercy—Jim answered his mobile. “Jim Sterling.”  
“Uh, hi Sterling.” Nate’s voice responded.  
“That sounded painful, Nate. Do you want to try again?”  
“Uh, no. Listen, I want to, uh, you know, ask you something.”  
“What sort of something? I’d like to help, but I don’t help criminals.”  
“No, nothing like that.” Really? Not stuck in a con? Okay, Jim decided he’d bite.  
“Then what, exactly, do you want to ask?”  
“W-Well, uh...I made a reservation at an Italian restaurant.”  
“And?”  
“Maybe...you’d like to, uh, join me? Sophie had plans already—apparently. Parker and Hardison are somewhere. And Eliot...well...he’s with some girl, I guess.” Dinner with Nate? It sounded suspicious to Jim. What if Spencer popped out from a bush and strangled him with a wire?  
Then again, food that didn’t come from a hotel kitchen sounded like a great idea. Even if it was a potential trap, at least Jim would have a nice meal. On the plus side, Nate would be paying, right?  
“Sure, I’d love to. Time and place?”  
“Uh...okay.” Was Nate expecting him to refuse? Jim grinned. “Dinner’s at six.” Nate explained. “I’ll, uh, I’ll text you the address.” Jim’s grin widened.  
“It’s a date.” He said. Nate stammered something as he hung up. Glancing at the clock, Jim realized he had time for a shower and a shave for the first time in months.

Jim walked into the restaurant and glanced around the faces while straightening his tie. No sign of Nate. A lovely, young hostess strode over, with a smile and a short skirt.  
“Good evening, sir.” She said, straightening her blouse.  
“Good evening.” Jim replied, plastering a smile of his own onto his face. “I’m Jim Sterling. I’m actually looking for someone. He, uh, made a reservation for six. It’s probably under the name Nathan Ford.” The hostess moved to the computer and typed away for a moment.  
“Ah, yes, Nathan Ford. Party of two for six o’clock.” She nodded and quickly wrote something down in a little black book. “Follow me, please, Mister Sterling.” She walked away, and Jim followed. He glanced at his watch. He was only ten minutes late. Honestly, he had made good time. Unlike Sophie Devereaux who would have been maybe an hour late.  
Jim sneered at the thought. The little art thief and Nate going out like this and her showing up very late. Nate alone for who knows how long with nothing to pass his time but the wine. By the time she would have shown up to their date, it would have been ruined. Nate would have been hammered and possibly vomiting. Jim snickered at the image.  
“You’re late.” Nate said calmly.  
“Not by much,” Jim replied coolly, sitting down across from Nate. The hostess hurried off. “It’s good to see you again.” Ford looked at him with surprise. Jim grinned slightly. “I can’t be polite and make small conversation?” Nate coughed and looked away.  
“No, no, you can. I, uh, I’m glad to see you again too.”  
“So what else had you planned out for this date?” Jim asked as he opened the menu left for him.  
“Well, uh,” Nate paused to shift awkwardly in his chair and coughed again. “Well, I-I uh, I had bought a couple of, uh, tickets to a movie.”  
“What movie?”  
“The Ghost Writer.” Jim smiled. Nate Ford, ladies and gentlemen. So predictable.  
“Horror?”  
“No, Mystery...and sort of horror, I guess. I mean, there’s supposedly a ghost in it.”  
“Mysteries have always been your favorite.” Jim picked up a glass of water and took a sip. The ice, cold liquid traveled down his throat, hydrating his slightly parched tongue. “And horror is just the icing on the cake for you.” He watched as Nate looked down at the pristine white table cloth. “Who’s in it? Do you know?”  
“I, uh, I actually think Timothy Hutton is in it. Not sure if it’s a big role, but he’s in it.”  
“Didn’t he get ducked-taped to a toilet in another film?” Jim quizzed. Nate laughed.  
“Yeah because his wife thought he was having an affair. And she wanted a second chance.” Jim snickered, imagining Maggie the one tied to the toilet and Nate begging her for another chance. Another sip of his water, and Jim glanced over his shoulder.  
No Spencer, yet. Looking back at Nate, Jim could see the face that always asked, “What the hell are you doing?” He shrugged and it was his turn to shift awkwardly in his seat.  
“I’m fairly certain you and your crew would want to get back at me.” Jim explained. “There’s an ever growing list of reasons why, isn’t there?” The hard stare he received took him aback.  
“The only way they’d even consider hurting you, Jim, is if it’s part of my plans.” Nate said into that low, far too serious tone that Jim shiver. In terror or sexual excitement, Jim wasn’t sure, but he shivered all the same.  
“Has it ever been part of your planning?” Jim dared, adopting a quiet, cautious tone. Were those blue eyes of Nate’s penetrating him down to his very soul? Jim forced himself to look away.  
“No,” was all Nate said. Another shiver. Footsteps approached. Saved.  
“Hello, gentlemen, my name is Alicia, and I’ll be your sever this evening.” A pleasant, female voice said. “Anything I can get you to start with? Tonight’s special is an appetizer of bruschetta with pesto and tomatoes.”  
“Sounds good,” Nate said, that terrifying yet somehow—serious tone gone. “What do you think, Jim?” He looked at Nate and saw that all too gentle, almost innocent expression on the man’s face. Jim smiled a bit. It was contagious.  
“That sounds lovely.”  
“Okay.” Alicia responded and jotted it down in her little notepad. “I’ll get that in for you while you decide.” She scampered away. Jim looked through the menu again.  
“Pie sounds good,” he said.  
“That’s dessert.” Nate commented. Jim rolled his eyes and scoffed.  
“Italian sausage pie isn’t a dessert.” Jim looked over the top of his menu to study Nate.  
That curly hair of Nate’s needed to be cut. Yet it was out of his face. Jim wondered what his secret was. And just how did Maggie like Nate with his hair slicked back? Nate looked better with his hair a little messy. But his curls were getting way too long. And even though Jim thought it should be shorter, he actually liked this length too. He could imagine what it would feel like if—fuck, no. Focus on food.  
“Lasagna.” Nate announced casually.  
“What?”  
“Italian white lasagna.” Nate repeated and glanced at Jim. “You want a sausage pie. I want lasagna.” He paused to close his menu. Those fingers that could pull anyone’s strings—metaphorically speaking—laced together neatly on top. “I think we’re set.”  
“Hardly.” Jim grumbled and looked through the wine list. “We need something to drink. How about—.” He paused and smiled. “Altanutia Pinot Grigio.” His eyebrows went into his hairline when he saw Nate reopen his menu. “What are you doing?”  
“Altanutia Pinot Grigio can be paired with non-grilled seafood, white meat, and white pasta dishes.” Jim’s eyebrows furrowed as his nosed scrunched disapprovingly.  
“S-So?”  
“So,” Nate growled and his eyes flickered toward Jim. “I have to pick something else.” Jim’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  
“Seriously? What has she been teaching you?” Nate’s eyes diverted to the table. Was...was the great Nate Ford blushing? Jim closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “You don’t have to pick something else, Nate.” He said. “One of the ingredients of the lasagna you want is a dry, white wine. You can ask the chef to use Altanutia Pinot Grigio.” Nate’s gaze met Jim’s again with surprise.  
“How do you—?” He began. Jim grinned slyly which interrupted Nate’s questioning.  
“You thought I didn’t have a hobby?” He paused and leaned back to savor this moment. He needed to gloat for this one. His arms folded over his chest. “I have cookbooks from nearly every part of the world. I used to read them when I was bored.”  
“And you don’t now?” Nate’s suspicious expression and tone to match made Jim deflate.  
“No. Interpol keeps me busy with all those cases we receive on a daily basis.”  
“Huh.” Nate closed his menu and shifted again in his chair. Jim quirked and eyebrow.  
“What?” He asked. Nate shook his head and flashed a half-smile.  
“I never pegged you as the one who liked to cook is all.” Nate answered. Jim scowled.  
“I can’t cook, Nate. I read cookbooks for bloody fun.”  
“Someone should turn in his man-card anyway.” That challenging grin on Nate’s face made Jim bristle.  
“Me?” Nate nodded slowly. “Turn in my man-card for reading sodding cookbooks?” Jim hated the fact that his voice was rising. Another nod from Nate. “And what about you, Nate? Sophie’s pretty much trained you to pair this food with that wine. You should have turned yours in a long time ago.”  
“Eliot’s getting me on probation for that.”  
“Because that’ll help. Spencer will make sure you stay whipped for sure.” Nate seemed to deflate. Jim sneered in triumph. The silence sank in shifting the mood to a tense feeling. Jim sighed, feeling a little guilty.  
“Bread sticks.” Nate mumbled at last.  
“What?”  
“We should order a side of their signature bread sticks.” Jim smiled softly.  
“That sounds good to me.” Alicia came back with their appetizer and took their orders. She smiled at them and hurried away with the ticket in hand. Nate and Jim sat in silence, nibbling on the bruschetta pesto and tomatoes. Jim was the first to break the quiet that had settled in.  
“Why here?” He asked. Nate stopped, a piece of bread topped with pesto, cheese, and tomatoes half way into his mouth. His eyes met Jim’s. The food was removed slowly and Nate cleared his throat.  
“What do you mean?” Alicia returned to the table with two wine glasses and a bottle of Altanutia Pinot Grigio.  
“Why here, Nate?” Jim tried again and gestured around him. “This restaurant. Why?” Alicia poured the wine into the glasses in silence. Nate opened his mouth and closed it, shifting in his chair. Jim figured he was trying to find the right words for this conversation. Alicia left, leaving the bottle behind. Nate coughed and finally said:  
“I-It’s, uh, it’s, it’s Sophie’s favorite restaurant.”  
“Oh, okay.” Jim propped his head in his hand while his elbow rested on the table. “So it was supposed to be an event for her and then one for you?”  
“Y-Yeah. Pretty much.” Nate shrugged. “Well, like I said on the phone. Sophie had made other plans.”  
“Did you even tell her?”  
“Yeah. Two weeks ago.” Nate looked down and folded his hands together. “She never said anything about other plans though.” He added softly. “At least, not until tonight.”  
“So she blew you off. How charming.” Jim picked up his wine glass and held it in the air in front of him. “Here’s to back-stabbing women, then.” Nate mimicked the motion and they clinked their glasses together. Jim shot a glance over his left shoulder.  
“I told you already—twice actually—Eliot’s entertaining some girl he met.” Nate sighed. “This makes time number three. So you can relax.” They sipped their wine and returned to silence. Their meals arrived, and they ate.  
Jim eventually risked stealing a bite of Nate’s lasagna and grinned. Nate smirked back and stole a bite of Jim’s sausage pie. The silence between them turned light, their eyes challenging each other to chance a second fork full of food. When one made a move, like a game of chess, the other would counter. Their grins widened and it turned into an immature sword fight with their forks. After a while, they broke into giggles.  
People stared, they were perfectly aware of that. But at the moment, it didn’t matter. The ocean of bad blood between them was reduced to nothing more than a puddle. They joked like they used to, toasted to ridiculous things, and talked about what cases they had done. The only thing missing was the rooftop of the I.Y.S. Insurance building and a lovely sunset.  
Jim nearly choked on his last bit of food and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Bugger,” he coughed, still smiling. “I don’t know about you, but I think dessert’s calling us.” Nate looked at his watch.  
“I’m so glad I got the tickets for ten forty-five instead of eight.” He chuckled. “So what did you have in mind?”  
“Tiramisu,” Jim replied. Nate looked unimpressed.  
“Really? That’s it?”  
“Parfait-style.”  
“That’s...not a thing.”  
“Oh, yes, it is. Check the dessert list.” Nate did as he was told, moving it back and forth squinting each time. Jim snickered. “Not enough blood in your alcohol system or are your eyes finally going?” Nate’s eyes flashed a quick glare and tried reading again.  
“How much have we had tonight?”  
“Maybe a bit too much. That’s probably our third bottle.”  
“Huh. Well, I’m glad the theater’s close by.” Nate fell silent, his eyes still scanning the dessert selection. “Oh, here it is. Tiramisu parfait.” He scowled a bit. “Sounds cheap.”  
“That’s what Sophie would say. I’m sure.” Jim growled suddenly feeling a little sober. Nate stared through the list. Was that a look of guilt or was it hurt? Jim sighed. “Listen we can forget about dessert if you want.”  
“No, no.” Nate put the list down with a lop-sided grin. “Let’s give it a try.” Alicia came over right on cue and they ordered the tiramisu parfait. She lit up and rattled on for a moment about how it was her favorite although neither man really listened. Jim was just glad when she finally went away.  
“I wonder if the ladyfingers are homemade.” He said. Nate stopped mid-sip, looking horrified. His glass reunited with the table.  
“Ladyfingers?” He echoed. “I don’t want real fingers.” Jim smirked and rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh.  
“You drunken—ladyfingers are like cookies, not actual fingers.” Nate seemed to calm a bit and returned to his wine. Jim scoffed and joined him.  
The bottle was nearly empty when their dessert arrived, and with it, the check. Nate paid and Jim left the tip. When he stood, however, the world threatened to spin. He must have lost his balance because Nate was holding him close at the waist. The contact shot a shock wave to his groin. Jim bit back the groan that threatened to come out.  
“You okay, Jim?” Nate asked, sounding oddly concerned. Jim nodded slowly avoiding eye contact.  
“Too much wine, I guess.” He answered and straightened himself. “Bloody alcoholic.”  
“Functioning alcoholic.” Nate corrected with a smile. Jim snorted. “May as well walk and then call a cab when the movie’s over. The theatre isn’t far.” Jim looked up and saw the biggest grin on Nate’s face. “So I’ll help you walk.” Jim sighed.  
“Oh...joy.” Nate simply laughed and led Jim out of the restaurant. Jim smiled and relished in the feeling of Nate’s warmth and the scent of his cologne.

The theater was oddly quiet for a late night. Most of the time it would be packed with students ranging from secondary to university for some reason or another. But it nearly had no one inside. Even in the auditorium where the movie was playing was dead. There were a few other people besides Jim and Nate, but ultimately, they were alone. Alone, in the back of the theater.  
Nate helped ease Jim into his seat. “You used to handle your liquor better.” He chuckled.  
“That’s what happens when you rarely get a damned holiday.” Jim grumbled. But the hangover tomorrow would be worth it. He hadn’t been able to take time for himself ever since he had taken a position at Interpol. Indulging himself tonight, even if it was with his rival, seemed like a noble cause.  
Nate flopped into his seat beside Jim with a heavy sigh of relief. Jim watched him sink into the soft chair. “Excited?” Nate asked. Jim smiled thoughtfully.  
“Yeah. I think so.” It might have been the alcohol, but Nate’s blue eyes were beautiful even when they lit up in anticipation. And that wide, toothy smile was almost too perfect to kiss. Well, it was just them, no distractions. Jim forced himself to look at the screen before them.  
You’re not attracted to Nate, he thought. You’re drunk and not attracted to Nate. The lights darkened. Oh good the movie was starting.  
The movie was certainly interesting. But somehow it couldn’t keep Jim’s attention. His eyes directed toward Nate. The former insurance investigator turned thief was slouching in the chair but looked like a child who had received the best present in the world. Those eyes twinkled with glee. Jim allowed his eyes to travel downward. Nate’s pulse in his neck was racing. Were they at a scene that was horrifying? Or was it a car chase? Nate liked a good car chase. Going further, Jim noticed Nate’s chest was steady, only occasionally did it hitch for reasons unknown. Jim looked up at Nate’s facial features.  
Nate wasn’t looking at the movie anymore. They were face to face. Jim’s throat felt dry and he swallowed. Nate’s pupils were blown wide. Was it because of the darkness? Or was it something else entirely? Nate straightened in his seat. Jim’s gaze flickered to his former friend’s lips. Nate’s lips were parted slightly Jim found himself mimicking Nate’s action.  
“N-Nate,” he croaked. Nate leaned over. Or was Jim? Nate licked his lips. Jim copied. Nate looked back at the movie. Jim let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. He looked down at Nate’s hand. Steady as ever. Jim covered it with his own. The muscles in Nate’s hand tensed up to his sleeve, maybe even further. If Nate decided to ask, Jim could simply say it was the alcohol affecting his actions.  
But the question never came. Instead, the muscles loosened. Nate turned his hand over, laced his fingers between Jim’s and pressed their palms tightly together. Jim stared dumbfounded at their hands for the rest of the movie.

The cab ride was pleasant. Even after the movie, Jim had held Nate’s hand. He felt a little drowsy, but maybe it was the alcohol. Once at his hotel, the contact between them finally broke. Nate climbed out of the taxi, jogged around to Jim’s side and opened his door. Jim smiled a bit.  
“How sweet of you.” He joked and nearly fell out. Nate helped him to his feet, being mindful of his head. Thoughts of touching Nate in very intimate areas ran through Jim’s mind, kissing those lips, taking Nate—  
We’re still in public, moron. He chastised himself. And you’re not attracted to Nate. “How can you still be able to walk?” Jim grumbled. “Bloody alcoholic.”  
“Functioning alcoholic.” Nate answered in a sing-song tone. Jim snorted. “But I am a bit fucked up.” Jim chuckled.  
“Figures.” He straightened and sighed.  
“I’ll see you again when you’re trying to thwart my plans.” Jim actually felt rather depressed about that thought. Nate pulled away. “But before we part on drunken terms, let me help you up to your room?” Jim smiled. But that begged the question.  
“What about the cabbie?” Nate shrugged.  
“I can catch another one back to my apartment.” He paid their fair and helped Jim into the lobby. They were almost to the bank of lifts when Jim stopped in his tracks.  
“Wait.” He croaked.  
“What’s wrong, Jim?”  
“How about we go to the pub here. I’ll pay.” Jim watched the devilish grin spread across Nate’s face. Once again, Jim wanted to kiss those lips to make that smirk go away and just snog the blighter senseless. He coughed and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.  
“How can I refuse?” Nate followed Jim to the pub. Soft music and a uniformed staff. Typical of hotel pubs. Jim plopped them down on bar stools at the corner of the bar.  
“How about the best Irish Whiskey they have?” Nate asked.  
“Fuck no.” Jim snapped. “Scotch. Neat.” Nate rolled his eyes and sighed. The bartender got them two tumblers and poured perfectly aged Scotch into them. The two sipped from their glasses. Jim reveled in the feeling of the amber liquid gently burning down his throat.  
“So why did you want to go to the hotel bar? You hate hotel bars.”  
“I do, but the night’s still young.”  
“Don’t you have a case tomorrow?”  
“So? I—” Jim cut himself off. He wanted to say, “I want more time with you,” but there was no telling out Nate would react. A low chuckle rumbled from his old friend, sending a shiver down Jim’s spine. He sucked in his breath as the warmth of the alcohol settled in his groin. He drained his glass and ordered another.  
“Can I ask you something?” Nate said.  
“Of course.” Jim replied.  
“How many people are actually in Interpol? I mean, there’s only ever you that we deal with.”  
“There’s more than one Interpol field agent. They send me because I’m just damn good at what I do.”  
“And my team says I’m a workaholic.” Nate downed his drink and asked for a second. Jim snorted in response.  
“You are a bloody workaholic. I’m working so much because order has to stay in place.”  
“Order isn’t the same as justice.” Nate growled. “You know that.”  
“I don’t have a choice.”  
“Everyone has a choice.” The silence spoke for a while, but its words fell to deaf ears. Jim sighed and stared into his glass filled with the amber liquid. Maybe Nate was right, everyone does have a choice.  
But Jim’s job had to maintain order in the world. Unfortunately, that meant the rich and powerful could take what they want, leaving the working class and lower to rot in the punishment. He snorted and knocked back the Scotch.  
He really should have gone to bed so he could get a good start on the case, despite the hangover. But he had worked on a lot less sleep and a lot more coffee. If everyone has a choice, then this would be his tonight. Besides, he had made the choice of having dinner with Nate and went to a movie together. Jim pulled out his wallet, fished out some cash, and tossed it onto the counter, just enough to cover the four drinks and a tip and said:  
“Hurry up.”  
“What? Why?” Nate asked, confusion ringing in his voice. “Are you getting rid of me already?” Jim grinned and turned to look Nate in the eye.  
“No. Actually, I have a better idea. So hurry up.” Nate looked suspiciously at Jim as he quickly drank his scotch. Jim grabbed him by the arm and hopped off his stool, forcing Nate to nearly tumble out of his. “Come on, Nate.” Jim growled.  
“Where are we going?”  
“Just come on.” Jim dragged Nate out of the pub and to the lift.  
“Dam. Impatient, son of a—.”  
“Shut up.” Jim barked and pressed the button going up. The lift doors opened. Jim nearly tossed Nate into the car. Nate stumbled inside grabbing the rail to stop himself from falling.  
“You remember that I’m fucked up, right?” Jim chuckled as he pushed the button to his floor.  
“You shouldn’t be so fucked up to figure it out.”  
“Figure what out?” Jim snickered at Nate’s confused face. “What are you planning?”  
“You have until we get to my hotel room.” Jim looked at the numbers scrolling by. “I’m on floor ten, room ten-fifteen.” He gave Nate a challenging look and leaned against the wall. He saw Nate become serious immediately.  
They stared at each other as they rode the life up to the tenth floor. Nate paced, never breaking eye contact. Jim wondered if he would discover what Jim wanted to do this late in the evening. The lift dinged and the doors slid open. Jim pushed off of the wall with his back and stepped into the hallway.  
“Everyone has a choice.” He echoed Nate’s words over his shoulder. “Tonight, what’s your choice?” He strolled on passing doors leading to rooms occupied by who knows. The lift doors closed and no sound of Nate trailing after him came. So that was his choice then. Well, Jim wasn’t horribly surprised. He had been hoping for a night with someone for a change instead of trying to satisfy himself with his hand. Oh well, he guessed his imagination of Nate would have to do.  
He had been trying to tell himself all evening that he wasn’t attracted to Nate Ford. But even Jim Sterling knew when he was lying to himself. Nate was very attractive. And everything about that man both excited and frustrated Jim. Whenever they were on opposite ends of the same case, Jim knew Nate would keep things interesting. And of course, Nate always kept Jim on is toes when they were working cases—whether it was for or against each other.  
Jim could still remember one night in Russia when they had to chase down a couple of thieves to recover some stolen art. They had to call it late one night and rented a really cheap hotel room. That night was blistering cold and they didn’t really have anything to warm themselves up with. Jim had made the suggestion of huddling together under the blankets. Nate hadn’t argued. So Jim had quickly found himself being spooned by Nate Ford. It had been rather nice, if he did say so himself. But that was also the first time Jim realized that he was ass-over-tits in love with Nate Ford; his best friend, colleague, and rival. The erection had been very hard to ignore, and Jim had found himself stifling every sound that tried to escape as he attempted to relieve himself of the worst hard-on in his lifetime.  
Jim shook his head and entered his hotel room. There was no point in trying to reminisce when there were other pressing matters he needed to attend to. He had a case in the morning, a hangover to suffer through, and an oncoming erection that needed to be dealt with. Granted, he didn’t have to worry about the case and hangover until after a good night’s sleep.

Nate paced within the elevator. What the hell was Jim planning? This wasn’t like his old fr—colleague. He shook his head and sighed. Was he really that pathetic to not use that word after so fucking long?  
They had been colleagues back at I.Y.S. Insurance, yes, but it had been more than that. They were friends, best of. They always met on the roof of the company’s building to share a drink and watch the sunset after work. Sometimes, they had talked about their cases, and sometimes they just enjoyed the silent company of each other. Their rivalry sparked when they were both up for the same position for chief insurance investigator.  
The rivalry had soured their relationship. Nate’s attitude about being better than Jim—even though that wasn’t true—pushed them even further apart. Once Sam had gotten sick and died, no thanks to Ian Blackpoole, Nate spiraled into depression, ultimately getting fired and allowing Jim to take the position he had been after for years. But those events never fixed their friendship.  
Nate ran a hand through his hair. So now here they were—well, here he was. So what was Jim’s end game, the self-serving utter bastard. He exhaled sharply and looked at the ceiling.  
Think dammit, he thought. If you’re so fucking clever, Nate, then solve the damn problem. He rewind the events leading to this point.  
Dinner had actually been enjoyable. They had argued a little, but overall they had actually acted like friends. Although Jim’s face looked odd after Nate had to catch him. That man just could not hold is alcohol like he used to. At the movies, Nate had noticed Jim been a little less interested in what was on the screen and more interested in, well, him.  
Nate had felt those hazel eyes roaming down his body. He had tried to ignore the shivers and elevating heart rate. It gave him pleasurable goose-pimples despite the fact he was forcing himself to watch the movie. When he had turned to look at Jim, he saw the Interpol agent was staring at him.  
Jim’s pupils had been blown. Nate had felt his body reacting and he had to shift in his seat. He had watched as Jim’s eyes moved down to his lips. Nate had felt his mouth open slightly, and saw Jim copying his action. Nate had barely heard Jim say his name, so he leaned over. Surprisingly enough, Jim had leaned toward him too. Nate’s lips had felt dry so he licked them. Jim had done the same thing.  
Nate’s brain had been whirring to erratically. He had pulled away before anything happened. He couldn’t risk finding himself making-out with a man he had grown to hate. He had heard Jim let out a breath, and felt Jim’s eyes on his hand. But that was not the most surprising thing.  
No, what had surprised Nate the most was Jim had put his own hand over Nate’s. Nate had felt a shock wave shoot up his arm and down to his groin where his cock twitched in response. He couldn’t shift his legs lest Jim find out the affect he had on him.  
Nate thought it might have been the alcohol, but Jim was a bit sober. Nate cracked a smile and held Jim’s hand, their palms pressed together tightly. Even once the movie was over. Jim hadn’t let go. Not that Nate wanted the contact broken either. It was so comforting. Granted, getting into the cab was difficult since neither of them was willing to release each others hands. But Nate had to force himself to let go of Jim’s hand. Which left Nate feeling a little empty.  
Then there was that look of lust in Jim’s eyes when Nate had helped him out of the cab. Nate had to stop himself before he lost control even for a moment. But God, he had wanted to kiss those slightly parted lips and lose himself in those hazel eyes.  
Somehow those feelings of real physical contact had warmed Nate’s heart. Oh, yes, Sophie had touched Nate frequently, but it always felt hollow in some way; like she only saw him as a mark. It made him feel special but not loved. Jim didn’t think that way so it meant more.  
Nate craved feeling loved as well as special. He was sick of being promised Sophie’s attention, but have it broken for some reason or another. It made him feel lonely and unwanted. But Jim...he had spent the whole evening with Nate. It made him special, wanted, and almost loved.  
Nate rapidly pushed the button to make the elevator doors open. Everyone has a choice. Jim had chosen the fact that he didn’t want to spend the night in a cold, empty bed. Nate decided he didn’t want that either.  
He was tired of being alone; of promises never kept; of being let down, put down, and everything in between all because of Sophie. He found himself sprinting down the hall looking for ten-fifteen.  
He did think Jim was just using him, but Nate didn’t care. He needed to feel something more than guilt or depression. He needed to touch something—someone—warm, and to feel that warmth against him, like that time back in Russia.  
That was the best night he ever had, oddly enough. He was cuddled against his best friend and thinking about how easy it would be to simply take what he wanted. He wanted Jim then, but since he was with Maggie—and Jim didn’t seem interested at the time—Nate restrained himself. And now Nate wanted Jim; wanted to give himself to Jim; wanted to take Jim for himself. Sophie be damned.  
Nate came to a halt in front of room ten-fifteen and panted in an attempt to catch his breath. His mind was racing as fast as his heart, maybe faster, as he pounded on the door. He had a plan, one Jim would never see coming, but would probably love the idea. When silence responded, he banged on the door again. More silence. Nate waited on baited breath as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The door finally opened. Nate grinned.  
Jim stood just in the doorway in nothing but a bath robe. Nate saw the suit Jim had worn to dinner. He must have been getting ready for bed, or perhaps a shower. Well, not before sex if Nate had anything to say about it.  
“It’s a bit late to—” Nate cut Jim off with a fierce, hungry kiss, his hand on the back of Jim’s neck. He could tell this action surprised the other man. Muscles beneath his hand tensed. Nate mentally rolled his eyes when he realized Jim wasn’t going to respond and forced them toward the bed. Jim was stumbling and clinging to Nate’s trench. At least instinct was kicking in, Nate mused. The door slammed behind them with a loud, bang, probably waking half the floor. Nate didn’t care. Once the kiss broke for much needed air, Nate studied the confused expression on Jim’s face. Priceless.  
“What are you doing?” He asked. Nate grinned slightly.  
“What you were going to do.” He answered. Jim’s eyes darkened. There was that lust from before. Nate felt his cock react in kind. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Jim shrugged with a small smirk.  
“Technically.” He replied slowly. Nate frowned and stripped off his trench, then suit jacket leaving them on the floor. He didn’t have time to hang them up and he sure wasn’t going to make time.  
“No ‘technically’ about it. I’m right and you know it.” Nate kicked off his shoes, ripped off his tie, and flailed out of the rest of his clothes, his eyes never breaking contact with Jim’s. The Interpol agent chuckled in spite of himself.  
“Must you be so serious?”  
“Must you still be in your bath robe?” Nate parried. “Take it off, or else.” Jim folded his arms over his chest in defiance. Nate felt his cock twitch at the sight. Jim seemed not to notice.  
“Or else what, Nate?” Jim said at last, his tone matching the challenging smirk; complete with that annoying eyebrow quirk. “Are you going to spank me?” Nate considered this. Images of Jim tied up with the belt from the robe, ass in the air, and Nate’s hand meeting that soft flesh ran through his head. Oh, that would be wonderful. But that would require the damn bath robe to come off. Nate shrugged and shoved Jim back. He’d get to that eventually. Jim flailed helplessly as he toppled onto the bed, arms and legs splayed out.  
“Oof,” he grunted. Nate grinned. Well, he had easier access to Jim’s cock now which he saw hardening under the soft fabric of the robe. He dropped to his knees, kicking and shoving his clothes out of the way. Jim sat up, leaning on his hands and a lusty grin on his lips.  
“Being a little forceful, aren’t we?” He said.  
“Shut up.” Nate barked as he grabbed the back of Jim’s neck, and crushed their lips together. Jim trembled under his hand, and Nate felt Jim’s hands on his shoulders. Nate shoved his free hand under Jim’s robe, feeling the soft warm flesh, and pushed it open. Jim’s hands moved away. Nate migrated his hands to the other man’s shoulders and forced the robe off. He heard Jim wriggle out of the sleeves and felt a hand tangle into his hair and another wrap around his torso just under his arm. Jim was finally kissing back with equal force. Nate could hear a moan rumble through the Interpol agent’s chest.  
Nate ran his tongue against Jim’s bottom lip. Jim’s lips parted. Nate accepted the invitation eagerly. Jim tasted of Scotch, faintly of the wine they had at dinner, and a tooth paste different from his own. And there was something else, something he could only describe as Jim flavor. Nate mapped out Jim’s mouth, memorizing every little detail with as much accuracy as he could muster in this situation. Nate began to pull away, his tongue sliding out, when Jim’s lips caught the muscle. Nate groaned helplessly as Jim sucked on his tongue, his mind’s eye seeing this man doing this to his to his cock. His brain fuzzed. Jim must have known somehow because he released Nate’s tongue. They looked at each other, catching their breaths.  
Nate moved his attention to the belt that held the bottom half of the robe closed and worked to untie it. Jim leaned back on his elbows. That would make things much easier, Nate decided. The belt came undone at his command and he pushed the rest of the robe away to reveal the rest of Jim.  
Jim was hard. Nate licked his lips, inhaled, and took Jim into his mouth. Jim moaned in response. Nate suddenly found himself hesitating. He had never gotten a man off like this. In fact, he had never had sex with another man at all. He tried putting himself in Maggie’s position, hoping for some inspiration but no such luck. Fuck.  
“N-Nate?” Jim croaked. Nate turned his eyes up to Jim’s face. Those pupils were dilated, his face flush. And Nate could see something else in that face. Jim put his weight on one elbow, reached out, and gently stroked Nate’s hair. Nate closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “What do you want done to you if the roles were reversed.” Jim explained. “Work from there.” Nate wondered if Jim spoke from personal experience. Well, whatever the reason, he had to keep going.  
Nate sucked on the head. Jim pulled his hand away and returned to his original position. Nate moved a little closer to the edge of the bed and placed his hands on Jim’s thighs. The sounds the other man made were pleasurable. Nate closed his eyes and descended firmly halfway down Jim’s cock.  
“Yes,” Jim groaned and bucked. Nate looked up at him with annoyance. It was supposed to deter Jim from repeating the motion but it clearly had the opposite affect. Jim thrust up and Nate grunted in response.  
Fine. Nate thought tightening grip on Jim. He slid up and pressed Jim’s hips into the mattress to hopefully prevent any more movement. Shifting forward, Nate started to move, slowly rising and falling, sliding his mouth a little further down each time. His eyes dropped closed as he worked toward something like a regular rhythm. He ran his tongue against the underside of Jim’s cock and swallowed at the top stroke.  
Jim thrust up into the next down stroke, irritating Nate as he gripped tighter on those hips. Nate was pretty sure there would be bruises there, not that he minded. And he was sure Jim wouldn’t care either. Jim’s fingers from one hand tangled into Nate’s hair and tugged. Nate tried to resist but it only made Jim repeat the action with more force accompanied with a shove upward from his cock. Nate moaned and loosened his grip on Jim’s hips.  
Shit, he thought. Jim tugged and thrust again. Nate instinctively relinquished control allowing Jim to set the pace. He moved his hands away from Jim’s hips. They had been useless to hold Jim down anyway. One hand encircled the base of Jim’s cock and moved in tandem with the rhythm set before him. The other rested on Jim’s thigh, feeling the muscles flex as Jim fucked his mouth.  
Jim’s other hand gripped Nate’s hair. Nate moaned with every stroke as Jim controlled how fast to move, how far to go. With every moan, Jim’s hands tightened probably pulling out some strands—not that Nate minded. Jim’s breath was harsh and rapid. Nate knew he was close, so he moved his hand on Jim’s cock and pressed his index finger into Jim’s ass.  
Jim groaned as is muscles tensed around Nate’s digit. Nate smirked mentally as he pushed in crooking upward and pulling out but never leaving and pushed in again. He hallowed his cheeks as he swallowed him to the base. Jim cried out in ecstasy as his orgasm took him. Nate tried to swallow the bitter, hot cum and kept moving his finger inside Jim. Jim’s body shuttered in response. Nate slowly slid his mouth off of Jim’s now softening cock, and removed his index, and hauled himself onto the bed and lay beside Jim.  
Nate and Jim looked at each other. Nate felt a smile pull at his lips. He was rather proud of what he had done. Jim’s eyes drifted down. Nate followed his graze and saw his own still half-hard cock. His eyes returned to Jim just in time to see the INTERPOL Agent clamor off the bed. Nate parted his legs, and Jim settled between them. Jim licked his lips with a smug smirk and descended, sliding warm and firm halfway down his cock in one breath. Nate hissed and bucked into that wet mouth.  
Nate watched through eyes half-lidded as Sterling worked him with his mouth. The pace was slow and agonizing, but Nate saw no reason to complain. He felt Jim’s tongue moving against the underside of his cock, the slight suction as Sterling swallowed at the top of stroke. Nate thrust up into the next down stroke. The sound Jim made was... not entirely displeased, so Nate repeated the motion. Jim’s eyes met his. Nate could tell that the Interpol Agent was inwardly smirking. His own lips twitched into a smirk in reply.  
He was fucking Jim Sterling's mouth. His wonderful, wet, cock sucking mouth. Nate Ford let his eyes fall closed, and gripped the sheets on the bed. He allowed his body to respond to each down stroke, his hips rolling upwards to meet his old friend. Soon Nate was skirting the edge of orgasm, wanting it and not wanting this to end, his breath coming harsh and fast. Jim swallowed hard against his cock, pushing Nate to the brink. He shoved up into that hot tight space and felt Sterling push a finger between his cheeks. The heat engulfing him proved irresistible, and with a shout, he came, slamming up into Jim. Sterling grunted, and the finger pressing inside sent an aftershock through him almost as strong as a second climax.  
Nate’s mind was in a fog and barely registering his surroundings. Once he finally came down from his glorious sex high, he managed to catch Jim’s voice telling him to relax. Relax? Relax what? The feeling of Jim’s finger still inside him reminded him. Nate forced signals from his brain to reach his muscles in his ass, in order to calm them. It seemed like it took an eternity, but he felt rather relieved to see Jim freeing himself. Honestly, what was he thinking, just doing that dry? Well, Nate wasn’t going to complain. He watched as Jim pulled himself up and flopped onto the bed, licking his lips and looking a bit smug. Well, Nate supposed he didn’t need to tell Sterling that was the best thing Ford had ever had.  
“Now what?” Nate asked once he remembered how to work his vocal cords.  
“I was going to shower.” Jim answered as he sat up. Nate flung an arm out, grabbing Jim at the waist, and yanked him back. Jim grunted as he fell back onto the mattress. Nate scrambled up, swung his leg over, and straddled Jim, hands on his shoulders.  
“You’re the one who said the night was still young.” Nate said.  
“I have to battle a hangover in the morning and work on a damn case.” Jim growled. “Shower and sleep would be beneficial for me.”  
“Fucking a bit longer is my choice, Jim.” Nate liked the look of surprise on Jim’s face. “What’s yours?” Jim smiled. That expression had promised good things all evening.  
“Come on, Nate. Get off.”  
“That’s not an—”  
“Well, I would rather be lying normally on the bed than like this in order to shag.” Nate shivered in delight and clamored off. They shifted to lay the length of the bed. Jim hopped off and started rummaging through Nate’s clothes.  
“W-What are you doing?”  
“Looking to see if you brought lube and a condom.” Nate cleared his throat. Condom? Yes. Lube? Not so much. He didn’t think he would be having sex with Sterling.  
“Back pocket.” Jim fished out the condom from the back pocket from Nate’s slacks. “I’m afraid I don’t have any lube.” Jim chuckled, hopped off the bed, and went his suitcase. Nate found himself adoring the ass of his old friend. Jim pulled out the tube of lubricant and returned to the bed. Nate scooted to the center of the bed and laced his hands behind his head. An eyebrow quirked when he saw an evil grin on Jim’s face.  
“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Nate blinked, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  
“Why?”  
“Just close your eyes.” Jim responded. Nate sighed and complied. He could hear Jim shuffle about the room. Maybe he could dare to peek and see what Sterling was planning. But he trusted his old friend enough to leave them closed.  
A string of thoughts began to run through Nate’s mind. One in particular made his cock twitch in delight. It was of Jim tying him up complete with a blindfold. Nate was on his knees, ass in the air and at Jim’s mercy. Jim taking him from behind and fucking him senseless. Ford shuttered and bit back a moan trying to escape.  
“Sit up.” Jim barked. Another excited twitch which Nate hoped Jim didn’t see. Ford did as he was told, leaning back on his hands. “Arms out.” Nate obeyed, shifting so he was sitting properly. Cold metal met Nate’s skin followed by the sound of handcuffs clicking closed.  
Nate’s body numbed, and he didn’t even notice his old friend moving about on the bed. Jim was arresting him? So had this been a set up from the very beginning? Ford couldn’t feel more like an idiot until now. Of course this would happen. Sterling was Interpol. Nate was a criminal, a thief. Ford supposed he couldn’t blame his old friend. Jim was a man of order, not necessarily justice. This was Sterling’s choice. At least Jim could have allowed Nate to have put his clothes back on before arresting him.  
Some kind of fabric wrapped around his head dragging him from the dark hole he had been finding himself in. Nate reached up to touch it. It was over his eyes so he was blindfolded. Examining it further the only way he could, the material felt like a necktie.  
“I-Is this yours or mine?”  
“Mine.” Jim’s voice said behind Nate. He could feel the makeshift blindfold tied securely at the back of his head. “And the handcuffs are because I don’t have anything else to tie you up with.” Sparks ran down to Nate’s groin. He smiled thoughtfully.  
“Maybe I can see the future.” He laughed.  
“What?” Jim replied, confusion clear in his voice. Nate shook his head.  
“Nothing.”  
“Good.” Nate felt Jim carefully lay him back. He felt touched that his old friend could be so considerate.  
“Safe words,” Jim began.  
“Kumquat,” Nate interrupted.  
“Wait. Wait...what?” Nate grinned.  
“Think about it.” There was silence for a moment. Jim was clearly thinking about it. Nate chuckled when Sterling giggled.  
“Okay, then. You say that, and we’ll stop for sure.”  
“Because it’ll be too funny for you to keep going.”  
“That’s, that’s true.” Nate felt a hand lightly touch his sternum. “One more question.”  
“Before you even ask, I trust you completely.”  
“Good.”

Nate opened his eyes to the sunlight entering through the window. His head pounded, his wrists throbbed, and his ass was sore. Over all, last night was great, better than every other night. Jim was thorough and just on the right side of rough. Sophie would have never done anything like this. She hated the idea of being a dominating person. As for Jim, well, he was very happy to dominate, tease, and reward when Nate begged enough. He sat up and slowly saw a bottle of Advil and a plastic cup full of water. Jim had been kind enough to leave him something to deal with his hangover.  
The shower was running. So Jim wasn’t gone yet to chase more criminals. Nate slowly, carefully crawled out of bed and dressed. Leaving the migraine meds would have been rude, so Nate took the recommended dose and drained the entire cup. His eyes roamed to the digital clock on the night stand on what Jim’s side the night before.  
Eleven forty-five in the morning. Jim waited until eleven to get up? His hangover must have been worse than originally thought it would Nate sniggered wondering if Jim threw up. Nate’s eyes darted to the bathroom when the shower stopped. Jim exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Their eyes met, and Jim smiled. If Nate wasn’t careful, he would come to expect that smile whenever they saw each other.  
“Do you want to shower before you head out?” Sterling asked.  
“Good idea.” Nate responded and slowly removed his clothing again as he walked toward the bathroom. Jim’s eyes widened as they darkened. Nate was sure more thoughts of sex was running through Sterling’s Jim’s mind. Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.  
Still in his boxers, he changed course grabbed Jim at the waist, yanked him in, and kissed him. Sterling seemed to melt upon contact. This was interesting. Nate didn’t think Jim would react that way. He had been so willing to give Ford orders last night.  
Their lips moved slowly, softly. Hands slid across bare skin, touching what could be reached. They propelled themselves to the wall. Jim grunted as his back met the wall. Nate bent his knee between Jim’s thighs. Sterling moaned. Nate pulled out of the kiss, moved his head, and sucked on the flesh on Jim’s neck.  
“N-Nate,” Sterling groaned. Nate hummed inquiringly. “Nate...I...” Jim shoved Ford back and tried to catch his breath. “Bloody hell,” he snapped. “I have to fucking work.”  
“So?” Nate scoffed. He tried to close this irritating gap now between them, but Jim wasn’t letting him. “Come on, I’m sure you’re heading the investigation. They won’t start until you show up.” He tried to eliminate the space again.  
“No, Nate.” Jim barked. Ford growled, grabbed Jim’s wrists pinned them to the wall, closed the gap between them and kissed Sterling fiercely. Jim moaned and tried to wiggle free. Nate pressed his body against the other man’s. Jim struggled, successfully freeing one his arms and shoved Ford back. Nate sighed and released Sterling.  
“Alright.” Nate mumbled in disappointment. Jim kissed his cheek. Nate cracked a smile.  
“I want to have another go with you.” Sterling admitted. “But regrettably, I need to solve a case.” Nate looked away. “Don’t give me that face, Nate. I’ll be back here tonight.” Ford looked at Jim, unable to control the hope he felt. Jim reached up and stroked Nate’s cheek. Ford leaned into the touch.  
“So it isn’t going to keep you all night?”  
“Of course not. So, meet me in the lobby or the pub around—let’s say six?”  
“Six is good. I’ll bring Chinese.” Jim chuckled, shaking his head in response.  
“It’s a date.” He went over to his suit still hanging up. Nate watched the towel being removed and tossed onto the bed. Jim dressed, while Nate quickly showered.

The elevator ride was peacefully quiet between Nate and Jim. They walked through the lobby and into the outside world of Boston. Jim started to walk away when Nate grabbed his arm.  
“What Nate?” Jim asked.  
“If you’re ever in Boston,” Nate replied. “Can we go out again like we did last night?” Jim smiled. Ford was loving that expression more and more every time he saw it.  
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll phone you if I ever find myself back in Boston.” Nate beamed, happy with that answer.  
“Good choice.”


End file.
